Soujiro
by souchan
Summary: Thoughts and events recorded by little Soujiro after he leaves the Seta household and becomes the emotionless assassin ten years later UPDATED:chapter 9: the world CRIES
1. A Boy on the Road

Here is yet another attempt to write a story about Soujiro. I won't guarantee an ending--as I didn't with my other stories :D. ANyhow, I'll try to write whatever idea came to mind when I can squeeze time out of my hectic life.Enjoy the story now, and please leave a review when you're done. 

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.

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**A Boy on the Road**

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My head felt empty. If I'd knock on it, I'd probably hear only hollow sounds. Like a woodpecker banging against a tree trunk. But I won't knock on it. My head hurt so much already. Last night, my adoptive father struck me with his wine bottle. See? Dried blood still streaked my face. Hair and clothes soaked in blood. The bad smell turned my stomach upside down and made vomit rise up to my throat. This was how fish'd smelled when they're up against adoptive grandmother's huge butcher knife as she pulled out their guts and organs. No sorry feelings for them. I didn't like fish. I'd rather live on grass. But then again, I didn't have to eat the fish. Such food was too good—and costly—to be fed to a slave anyway.

Adoptive grandmother, when you cut into the fish belly, did you think how much it'd hurt?

Adoptive father, when you threw a wine bottle at me, did you see the blood oozing out?

No? Well, now you knew. Last night, I was the butcher and you were the fish...

"Selfish brat!", your scream pierced my eardrums along with thunder. I might be selfish, but I wanted to live. Even a puny little mouse ran from you when you beat it with a broomstick. **A little mouse wanted to live. I wanted to live too. **Why wouldn't you let me?

**Why?**

Rainwater burnt my eyes. Yes, burnt. Try squirting lemon juice onto your eyes and you'll understand what it felt like. Perhaps it was because I cried too much. I cried in silence so nobody could tell. Unlike the other whiny children in the neighborhood who bellowed so loudly when being spanked, as iftheir parents were cutting their legs off. They never understood that the more they cried, the worse it get. Of course, how would they understand? Those children didn't getbeat on a day-to-day basis like I did. Me, I was different. I remembered pain well--scars on top of another as a constant reminder--and had enough brains to clamp my mouth shut. Tightly. You'd never hear a complain out of me. Bad children are children who whined. I knew better than to appear as a bad child before a man like Shishio-san. He'd probably just cut my tongue off to silence me. Permanently.

Everything blurred. Darkness spilled in every direction. A scary thought crept up in my mind: Was I going blind? Could a person become blind from crying so much?

_No, no, no, I don't want to be blind...! But I couldn't be...I don't like the dark...! That's when all the scary creatures come out...to eat the kids they found wandering--one by one...I don't want to be alone in the dark...! Shishio-san, where's Shishio-san?...Please, I promise I'll be good...real good...please make me see again, please!_ My heart somersaulted. My whole body shook like a dried leaf against autumn wind. I realized that I was lost. Shishio-san? Shishio-san? The heavy rain drowned my cry. He didn't hear me. And I couldn't see him. Shishio-san was gone. He wouldn't stopped even if I collapsed by the roadside and became food for the crows. It was what I deserved for being so weak.

"Shishio-san! Shishio-san!" Tripping madly, I fell face first into the mud. No matter how many times I spat, the taste of filthy mud still clung to my tongue.

Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted. _Devil? Ghost? Mud monster?_ I kicked and wiggled and screamed my throat out. I didn't remember I had a wakizashi tucked in my obi.

A hand slapped me on the cheek. Hard. "Soujiro, snap out of it."

My eyelids parted. I saw a huge figure looming over me, with bandages and all. Shishio-san! I could see again! I'm not blind!

You didn't know how happy I was to see him. I was so glad I'd hug a tree--since Shishio-san was anything but the hugging type--, but there wasn't one nearby.

Before dawn, we stopped at a deserted shack in the countryside. I went to sleep right on the spot. It felt heavenly. I wished I could sleep forever and didn't have to wake up again.

How annoying that I didn't get my wish. People's yellings boomed by my ears. A big hand violently shook me out of my deep slumber. Oh no! I didn't finish delivering rice. Adoptive father said he'd hang me on a tree to dry if I didn't! Rubbing my eyes, I strained to sit up. In front of me was a large man indeed. But not adoptive father.

"You boy, where's the criminal? Where's he hiding? Tell me or I'll cut you in half!"

Sword. He unsheathed his sword and waved it about my face.

"Speak, boy! Speak! What's wrong with you? Speak!"

My sleepy, clouded mind snapped back to reality. This wasn't adoptive father. I wasn't at the Seta's house anymore.

"Bastard! Do you know helping the government's criminal is a crime? Spit it out! Where is he?" The man held the sword above my head.

I sat frozen on the spot. My eyes didn't blink as I watched the blade coming down.

On me.


	2. How to Kill a Man

I'd like to thank those who reviewed. Here's chapter 2.

**Disclaimer:** Rurouni Kenshin belongs to N. Watsuki.

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**How to Kill a Man**

"I'll tell...! I'll tell! Don't hurt me...!" Words shot out of my mouth quicker than arrows from a bow. I was shouting and laughing at the same time, as if delirious. My crazy behavior caused the monster stopped.

"Please spare me sir! He'll slit my throat if I tell anyone where he hides... Please sir!"

"**I'll** slit your throat if you don't tell me!" I felt the cold steel against the soft spot under my chin. He wasn't joking.

"He went out while I slept. I don't know what for, but he'll be back at sunset. Night is when we travel."

"I don't trust you, boy. What were you doing with that murderer in the first place?"

I bowed so low that my nose touched the ground. This way he couldn't see the impish smile creeping up my lips. Drawing a deep breath, I retold the whole story in the most pitiful manner I could managed: "He's a demon, madman...I peed my pants at the sight of him (sob)...bloodsucking monster butchered my master's family with only a single sword stroke.(sniffle sniffle)...he brought me along to run errands (sob some more)...he can't be seen in daytime, he says..."

I lied so well. He totally bought it.

The monster withdrew into a corner and waited. Taking out some dried food—and with his mouth full—, he threatened to kill me if Shishio-san doesn't come back by sundown. It was late afternoon already. I wondered what my next move should be.

"Can I have a bite sir? I'm really hungry. Can I? Just one teeny little bite. Please?"

This time was for real. Potato leaves and water were all I've eaten for the last two days. At this rate, I'll probably turn into a rabbit pretty soon.

The monster saw no reason to spare his crumbs for a starving child. He shoved a fistful of mochi down his throat and had to run to an outhouse not so long after. I'd laugh my ass off—except that he looped his obi around my wrist and tied it to the outhouse's latch, so I wouldn't run off to find Shishio-san. **It was unbearable**. I thought I had died from having to hold my breath for so long. As soon as he was settled down, I started tampering with the knot. My knuckles became white and numb because the blood had a hard time circulating—the knot was **that** tight. Frantically, I tried everything I could think of—pull it out, loosen it with my teeth (yuck!). But it seemed to take a miracle—or chopping my wrist off—to set me free. Or maybe...

I tried the knot on the latch. It was not impossibly tight as the other one.

Soujiro no baka.

Ran to the shack, grabbed the wakizashi, stabbed through the bamboo door. I did it all in one continuous motion. The monster bellowed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. I didn't stop even as blood seeped out from under the door and formed red puddles. When the monster finally managed to knock down the door was also when he breathed his last.

Shishio-san wasn't at all surprised when he returned. "Bounty hungers. I could smell this kind from three li away. How pathetic, jumping at a bait the second he laid eyes on it. Just like a rat."

"Bait? What bait, sir?"

Shishio-san threw me one of those "_you'll-find-out-when-a-light-bulb-shines-above-your-dense-little-head_" look and walked on. No more questions asked.

Tucking the wakizashi in my obi, I followed Shishio-san from dusk to dawn, and dawn to dusk again. His own shadow left him as night fell. I didn't. Even a shadow couldn't have been **that** loyal.


	3. The Cat, the Dog, and I

**Disclaimer: **This is getting redundant. I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, period.

Writer's block's annoying as hell. Somehow this chapter managed to turn out better than expected. Read and review now.

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**Chapter Three: The Cat, the Dog, and I**

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A tiny moon lit up on the inky boundless sky. I ran, it ran. I took one step, it took one. Proud and at leisure, it was always ahead, sticking a sickle-shaped tongue at me. 

"Why doesn't tonight's moon look like the other night's?" I wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer. Even though Shishio-san was right here, his mind was likely to be in the "plotting mode". _Again_. For a man who thought he was king of the world, thinking about stuff like...being king of the world required a good deal of concentration, attention, contemplation and such. Answering a kid's question on the amazing wonders of the universe was definitely not on the list.

So, I made up my own answer instead.

Maybe it had to do with what the moon was made of. Something pure and white...Sugar? Salt? Hmm...couldn't be, because then the wind would blow it all away. Milk? No, otherwise Japan would be drowned in milk--although that'd mean the poor people could have milk to drink...anyways, it had to be something else.

..."Yatta!" I almost screamed out in excitement. Had to clamp a hand up my mouth before Shishio-san scowl at me for "blocking his train of thought heading its way toward world domination" (I had no clue what that meant).

Where was I? Oh yeah...

Ready? Here it comes:

**...the moon...**

**...is...**

**...a...giant...**

**...ricecake!**

At this shocking revelation, the moon fell down, crashed against the rocky edges of Mt. Fuji and shattered into lots and lots of shiny pieces.

Don't worry, I was just joking. The moon was still intact. It wouldn't be tomorrow or the day after, though. The rats--not just your average warehouse rats, but rat monsters--'d nibble on it, chunks after chunks, until all that left was a bare, pitch black sky. Trust me, rats could chew up _anything_. The Seta family had forced me to sleep with them before. Nasty, nasty creatures.

"Itai!" Apparently my face just slammed against something. The pain wasn't pleasant, but it was a good thing I ran into a tree and not off a cliff. I did not believe in what people said about learning to fly on the way down. Had I been able to fly, I'd flap my wings from the rice warehouse and let the Seta family eat my dust. Knowing this, they had gone ahead and cut off my wings, strap a rice barrel on my back and bury my dreams in the dirt. Wingless, this little bird could never take flight.

On days that I was too tired to fall asleep, I murmured the make-believe stories to myself until my eyes drooped. Shishio-san'd remained indifferent to my making a fool of myself as long as he found it not disturbing to his solace. If he did, he'd order me to stop. With Shishio-san, there were plenty of orders and few explanation. If curiosity wouldn't stop nagging me, I'd have to create my own answer. Most of the time, the ideas I came up with were silly and childish. Shishio-san'd flatly shoot them down: wrong, wrong, wrong. And then proceed to a mature, highly philosophical answer that threw my mind into a wild whirlwind of confusion.

Given this, the ricecake moon and rat monsters were liable to be wrong too. But that's alright, I've had fun with my make-believe story. Shishio-san could never see the moon the way I saw, or think of rats the way I thought. Logic had squeezed every morsel of imagination out of the man to make room for more reality. Real life issues like how to gather an able army for the take-over or just simply where we should go next to shake the policemen off our tail...

"We're stopping here. Go talk to the owner." ordered Shishio-san, gesturing toward the shabby house surrounded with wild weeds and grasses ahead. It looked more fitting for ghosts than people, though Shishio-san's demeanor was sure to scare any ghost away.

The owner was slow to answer. Behind the rotting hatch was a pale, disheveled woman carrying a wailing baby in her arms. Its crying sounded like the yowling of a cat in pain.

"What the hell are you doing at this time at night? Get out if you don't want me beating the daylight out of you. Shoo, you little rascal! Go home!" She snapped at me, irritably.

I immediately put on my sweetest smile, "I'm so very sorry, ma'am. Please let us stay here for just a short while. We'll keep to ourselves, you won't even notice our being here." Pushing the money into her hand, I added, "Take this as compensation for all your trouble."

However, the woman's attention wasn't on me anymore. Her eyes were fixed on Shishio-san, utterly horrified and then turned hysterical. "Out! Get out! I know the low life son-of-a-bitch who sent for you! Hiring thugs to assault a widow and her baby to steal her land! Kami damn you all to hell! Out of here now, I say!" Furiously, she threw the money in my face and slammed the door shut.

"Are we going to kill them?" I knew the man wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"No, I'm not a thug." He gave the hatch a forceful thrust--though it wasn't necessary, given its deteriorated condition. The flimsy hatch fell off its hinges and crashed onto the ground.

Trembling, the mother clutched fiercely to her baby, which was making the most distressful sounds I've ever heard. "Go away, go away! Why won't you leave us alone?"

"I will. I don't know the scum you were ranting about, and frankly don't care. The boy and I are staying, though. Don't worry, I won't hurt you..." An apathetic smirk. "...and won't be concerned with you either."

He kept his words. During our stay, we lived like ghosts among the living. The mother let us--or rather, was forced to let us--live in a separate guest wing, which was dusty and smelled of rot. Nobody complained, because it also happened to be the room that leaked the least when it rained. All of us ate rice with salted dried fish while the cat-baby ate snow crab and oyster soup. It stared blankly at the new toys bought with the new money, did not grow better despite the costly, nutritious foods she fed it. Still the same tiny stature, dumb cat-like face, and the sorrowful yowling that crushed the mother's heart. She carried it on her back almost every single waking moment--while working on the fields, going to the market, cooking and cleaning--lest the cat-baby brought harm on itself. I envied the love she showered on her cat-baby. She didn't turn its face to the mud even if it was born a freak...

I wasn't a freak, how could my own mother throw me away?

But then, what kind of child killed his family? What kind of child admired a blood-thirsty murderer? What kind of child swung sword day after day, aspiring to be strong like his mad sensei?

Perhaps my mother saw through the damned freak in me after all.

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Training kept me busy. Waking up before the rooster called and train until the crickets chirped was the norm. So far I've been practicing kata, which turned out to be a bigger pain than it looked. 

"Don't just swing the stick like an old woman sweeping the house! Swing, slash, and stab. Every sword technique ever created involved these three moves. Once you've nailed them, you're on the way to become a killing machine."

My "swing, slash, and stab" was feeble. Not only did I fail to hit the hanging dirt bag, it flew back and gave me a black eye.

"Practice forty times. Don't you dare put down that stick until you're done."

"But, Shishio-san..."

"You want to be strong, don't you? If you can't even do this, go stab yourself." With that said, he lit his pipe and went away.

I swung, slashed, and stabbed like crazy. My brains completely shut down, only the body moved-each movement aching to the bone. It seemed that someone had taken the day and stretched it longer and longer like a rubber band, just to spite me. When Shishio-san returned late at night, I was a wreck--lying next to the fallen dirt bag (finally knocked it down), hands bleeding and ankles sprained.

"Soujiro."

"How many times have you done it?"

"A lot...lots..." The smile was dazed and crooked.

"How many is a lot?"

"I...can't say..."

"You're trying my patience, kid."

"...don't know how to...count..."

"Why the hell didn't you say so?"

"You said go die."

He cursed.

Once I could get up to my feet again, we started a new training session that was even more dreadful than the last. Shishio-san took out a round golden object from his pocket.

"What is that, Shishio-san?"

"A watch." Pointing at the tree at the crossroad that I bumped into the other day, he said, "Run up to that tree and back to the house in six seconds, ten times straight. Each time you foul up, do over ten times more. I'm keeping count, go."

Do over, do over, do over the whole day. The next morning, I opened my eyes and saw a gnarling, angry dog. Did Shishio-san give up on me?

"Are you going to feed me to the dog?" Scared as I was, I was smiling like an idiot.

"Yes." He replied drily. And dropped the leash.

I swore, it was a demon dog. What kind of dog would chase after a bag of skin and bones anyways? Its sharp teeth ripped my skin off: arm, feet, and buttocks. At the end of the next day, I passed out--either from lost of blood or exhaustion, or both. In my red-tinted nightmares, I was surrouned by the dog from hell. A doctor from the village was called on to tend for me, who was said to have "some sort of freak accident".

"The injuries aren't lethal, but I need to see the dog that bit him. If it had rabies, then I afraid..."

"What's going to happen to him?" came the mother's voice.

"He dies. There is nothing I can do."

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to be continue...

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**Author's Note (edit July 6th, 2007):** I finally remembered where I read about the **Crie-du-chat** (cry of the cat) syndrome, which is the disorder that the cat baby in the story has. It is resulted from partial deletion of chromosome 5, causing the infant to sound like a meowing cat (due to problems with the larynx & nervous system), and become retarded in growth and cognition. Of course, they didn't know any of this back then, so they just thought of the baby as demon-possessed. 


	4. Because I'm Strong

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Rurouni Kenshin, it'd be Rurouni Soujiro instead.

This seems to be the best chapter yet. Throw in a review after you're done reading. It's not that hard to critique good literature :P Oh yeah, see if you can guess where the title came from

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Chapter 4: "Because I'm Strong"

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On the other side of the sliding door, voices returned. I pulled the moth-eaten cover over my face and braced myself. 

"I don't know how to break this to you, but..."

The mother sighed.

"The dog showed some symptoms similar to a rabid animal."

My mind went blank.

"I don't want to die, no, I don't want to die." I said it over and over, deliriously.

Shisho-san didn't seem to hear my plea. Sitting next to the oil lamp, he calmly smoked his pipe as the doctor announced my death sentence.

Sunset. The giant fireball went down its mountain grave in a glorious funeral of golden light. As the day came to an end, my life drew shorter.

Higher than even the talles tree, a boulder extended out like a tongue from the mountains' cavernous mouth. To my left was a waterfall pouring down into a lake below. Half in stupor, I toyed with the thought of jumping off. Flying must be wonderful.

A long time ago, there was a birdnest on the sakura tree that grew in the Seta family's yard. I used to climb up the tree to peek at it, delighted each time an egg hatched into a baby bird. But before any of the baby birds could learn to fly, they became orphans. The fat cat grandmother kept as pet had swallowed the parent birds in one bite. One of the babies died the next day, and the other one fell out of the nest. It was crippled for life--not that it would live for any time long. I cried while burying them under the sakura tree.

Moving closer to the edge, I smiled at the dying sun. Perhaps I was meant to die that night. What an idiot I was to believe I could be strong like Shishio-san.

_Here I go. I'm going to fly. No cat can stop me now._

Eyes shut, I dived into the air. What a thrill, wind rushing through my hair, blood pounding in my head. My body relaxed as I hit the water...

"Oww! Hot, hot, hot!" I couldn't help but yelling. The lake was a hot spring, and the water was boiling. But the worst was yet to come.

Beating against my innocent eyes was the sight of a man and a woman. Both of them in the water. And **naked**.

Obviously they were doing that "thing" adults do when a man and a woman got too close together..._oh Kami-sama, now I was really scarred for life_.

Head down, I stammered "sorry" to the couple, whose mouths were gaping wide opened. As quickly as my feet allowed, I bolted out of the lake and ran home before one could say...

_No, no, I know what you're thinking. Don't even say it._

I was breathless when I reached the house. On the porch, the cat-baby was sleeping alone in a hammock. Judging by the sounds of water splashing, its mother was likely to be getting water from the well backyard.

Behind the bushes, three little shadows emerged and tiptoed slyly onto the porch. They were boys around my age.

"Hey!" I ran up to them, "What are you doing?"

The tall one took a wired cage from another boy who had an ugly bowl haircut. He hovered it before my nose. I shuddered at the stench. Inside the cage were...

Rats. Vicious, hungry rats with razor-sharp teeth.

I stumbled backward, body frozen stiff. Every memony of nights sleeping in the rice warehouse flooded back to me in full horror. Bite marks...blood on my limbs...

"I'm feeding the cat." He opened the cage. Two rats climbed up the cat baby's legs and sunk their teeth into its pale white flesh. The cat-baby cried out in pain.

"You don't like it?" The third boy jeered, "Aren't cats supposed to eat mice?" The other two guffawed.

I shoved them off the porch. Hands shaking, I tried to reach for those hellish creatures. My hand drew back as soon as I touched them--the sensation chilled the core of my soul.

_I can't...I can't do this..._

"What's the matter, pretty boy? Don't have the balls to grab a couple of rats?"

At that moment, the mother rushed out screaming in hysteria. Hugging the cat-baby close to her chest, she cursed up a storm and threw her wooden clogs at the little devils. One of them hit the one with the ugly bowl haircut as they climbed over the fence and vanished into the night. Their cruel laughter echoed by my ears for a long time.

I got a slap from the mother afterwards. It was well deserved.

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Late at night, I was outside running. All the events happened today made me restless and chased sleep away. I ran the same course over and over, as if possessed. Autumn night was cold, and yet my lungs and feet were on fire. Sweat rolled into my mouth, tasting salty. Like tears. 

_Why am I so weak?_

I muttered to the black, moonless sky. I'd cried too, if I had any tears left.

"Shishio-san, am I going to die?" I asked while washing my face at morning. In the water basin, a haggard reflection was staring at me. Took a while to realize it was my own face.

"Looks like it...You've been pretty weak lately." Shishio-san replied carelessly, busy sharpening his blade with a stone.

I smiled, at ease, "No, I won't die. Because I'm strong."

Though skeptical, Shishio-san followed me to our usual spot. The dog was tied to the tree trunk, menacing as ever.

You see, the trick was not to start out as fast as I could, but to wear the dog down first. The dog matched its pace to mine: I ran fast,it did too. So I circled around the tree several times before actually begin the course. With all the practice I've had these past days, stamina was no longer a problem.

Panting, the dogwas still chasing after me. Now was time to speed up.

As I came to a stop, the dog made a leap toward me. Its fangs never touched my skin though, because Shishio-san had promptly cracked its skull.

The dog became our dinner--or Shishio-san's, rather--that night. I stuck to rice and pickled vegetables.

"The weak is food for the strong. Come take a bite."

Smiling, I shook my head no.

Just the thought of having to literally eat the things I killed thoroughly creeped me out.

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	5. Oh, Family!

**This might very well be the end. I've lost interest.

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**

**Chapter Five: Oh, Family!

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**

There were loud banging and shouting coming from the front gate. The mother acted as if she were deaf and kept eating.

"Do you want me to go see?" I asked carelessly and got a glare from Shishio-san. I had forgotten about him telling me not to meddle in others' business.

It didn't take long for the people from outside to break through the flimsy door and barged into the room where we had been eating lunch. Two men wearing Western clothes; one throwing a piece of paper at the mother, calling it a "contract" and ordered her to sign it. Without a word, the mother walked over to the stove and fed the paper to the fire. They slapped her around. The cat baby cried. Shishio-san didn't move one bit and neither did I. The yelling and crying annoyed me. I wished they'd shut up. Amidst all that brawling, I picked out words like "silk factory", "mandate to buy land", "impeding the progress of Japanese industry", which frankly made no sense to me. When the stubby man tried to strangle the mother, she poked his eyes out with her thumb. Then she grabbed a butcher knife and slashed the other man's mouth, since he hand't the brains to get out of the way. Blood swung in red arcs about her. I caught a feral look on the mother's face, the one that'd chill men's souls. I recognized that look because it was the same as Shishio-san's.

When the men had scurried away, the mother threw the knife onto the floor and picked up her baby and rocked it back and forth and sang it a lullaby. This went on in the middle of scattered food, blood, bowl shards and overturned table. I thought it was pretty absurd that both the killer and the mother could coexist within one body. Perhaps I was going crazy. Or perhaps everyone else had gone crazy and I was the only sane one. But what difference would that make?

The cat baby wouldn't stop crying. Its forehead as hot as fire. At first the mother'd put cold wet cloth onto its swelling lymph spots, then she doused the cat baby into the cold water too. She hollered at me to go get the doctor. I did. Shishio-san didn't stop me.

The doctor wouldn't come. His face was nervous when I saw him. He said he couldn't help the mother anymore. He said, the whole village had come to believe that the two of them were cursed, that they brought enough bad luck already, and so you see, the village headman had forbid him to help and the businessmen bending on snatching the land had also forbid him to help. He was sorry, but it couldn't be helped.

I felt guilty and useless as I returned alone. The mother was frantic. Her face was distorted because of anger and desperation and frustrtation and other emotions you'd typically expressed when you learned that the whole world had betrayed you. But all of the sudden, the doctor came in, sweating and neurotic; his face starch white from fear. There was a cut on the right side of his neck from which blood trickled down. A moment later, I smelled blood from Shishio-san's blade when he walked in.

_Shishio-san was no Buddha, but..._

I was disappointed that a miracle didn't occur. The disease from the rats was beyond curing at that point. And the fact that the doctor had hesitated to come didn't help much either.

That night, the cat baby had its last yowling. That night, the mother turned to stone--rigid and silent--by the little swollen body. I didn't think she had any tears to cry.

That night, the doctor got stabbed to dead on his way home. I had a vague idea that Shishio-san had done it because I smelled blood from his blade again.

_Shishio-san was no Buddha, but..._

Well, who'd want a yellow-livered doctor like that anyway?

Next day. The two men in Western suits came over again. The mother signed on the paper without a word. The house was to be turned over to them by the morning after. And the whole world had finally succeeded in defeating the mother.

The cat baby wasn't buried yet. I thought she was going to cremate it, but she drew out all of its blood before she did so. The infected blood went down into the well as the last act of vengeance.

"That's gross." I commented. Of course I was smart enough to understand that it wasn't merely revolting; she had just now poisoned the whole water supply of this piece of land.

"Where's your master?"

"He's taking a bath." I didn't bother to lie. If she was stupid enough to vent out her anger on Shishio-san...well, the man can take care of himself.

From beneath the little window outside the bath house, I squatted low, eavesdropping on them.

"You know, it's rude to walk in on a person like this. What've you got to say to me?"

"It's time for you to take care of Mama." She meant the wooden tablet that had the deceased's name carved on it.

This was getting interesting, I thought.

"For fourteen years I've stayed by this land and guarded Mama's grave with my life. Even though I've lost, I've done my best."

"I'm curious, how did she die?"

"Really...you don't know? She died of wound infection. Of course, how would you know? You ran out on her right after she cut up her thigh to feed you. You thought it was chicken." She laughed cruelly. "Idiot. Where would you find chicken in times of famine? She's totally absurd, Mama was. The one that deserted her, she loved; the one that was loyal to her, she ignored. But I didn't come here to complain. I'm handing Mama over to you, big brother. May she bless you as you rightfully deserved."

It was utterly bizzarre, what I've just heard. I've always had this idea that Shishio-san had come to the world as he was now. Not younger nor older, with bandages and all. I couldn't imagine him as a boy, borne of a mother, has a sister. It was much easier to think that he had fell from the sky or sprouted up from the earth. It was unbelievable--what she said--, yet at the same time, possible too.

Dawn. Stars vanished one by one as the great big sun crawled up behind the velvety green hills. The mother--or woman, rather (now that her baby was no more)-- was ready to go. To live, to run, to serve, to struggle, to cry, to walk, to reflect, to forget, to rejoice, to die...all over again.

"Where will you go?"

"I go wherever the wind takes me. Do you want to come?" Her face was sad and tired and resigned. Like that of someone who just came out of the eye of a storm.

I shook my head, "My master is waiting."

She looked at me closely and said, "You and I aren't so different. We're both loyal to the wrong people."

I wanted to say, wrong or right, it was all the same to me. What does it matter if that night, an angel told me to go ahead and kill my foster family? What does it matter if I killed to save my head or because I felt that it was fun? Why should killing in the name of self-defense, killing in the name of vengeance, killing in the name of philosophy, or killing in the name of justice makes any different? No one excuse is truly better than the other. Killing is killing. Period.

But instead I smiled at her, "Have a good journey." Soon she was just a little black dot at the end of the road, melting into the rising sun.

* * *

**I thought it'd be interesting to do a foreshadowing of what Sou'd do after he lost. And you never think that Shishio has a family or any kind of kinship. So here it is.**


	6. Yumi

I can't believe the last time I updated was a year ago. The idea in this chapter was left to ripe until it simply had to be written down. Finally, Yumi's in the story! I'm so excited!

* * *

**Chapter Six: Yumi**

* * *

There was a thorn deeply wedged under my foot. Every step I took brought a prick of increasing pain. The stoic part of me commanded me to ignore it. Heh, stoic. Have you ever seen a stoic eight years old? My foot hurt a lot. Yet I could not cry. The muscles on my face twisted freakishly in a natural reflex of a grimace and a conditioned response of a grin. It was not normal—normal people don't grin like a maniac when they are in pain. They'd cry out, or clench their teeth—at least display some kind of painful expression as a reassurance that their nerves and senses are still doing what they were supposed to be doing. My sense of pain is working properly. But I couldn't cry. I thought that once I left the Seta house I would be able to cry again. No one would beat me up if I do so—Shishio-san would just tell me to go bawling somewhere else so as to not bother him. But I couldn't cry anymore, it seemed. Part of becoming strong required giving up the ability to cry, I supposed.

This wasn't the first time I realized what a messed up kid I am.

"Soujiro, you hungry?" came a gruff inquiry from Shishio-san.

"Yes. I am hungry, sir."

Shishio-san gestured to a little solitary diner place ahead, near the fork of the road. I smiled gratefully to Shishio-san and plopped myself down to the bamboo bench and examined my injured foot. The thorn was below the skin surface; any attempt to pull it out with my fingers would just make it go deeper into my flesh. I didn't want to live with this nagging pain for the remainder of my life. I really didn't.

Aww, to hell with being stoic.

I tugged at the sleeve of the young woman who came to take our order. She was the waitress and owner and cook all in one. Long brown hair and a little mole on the chin. I thought she looked like a nice person:

"Umm...I have a thorn in my foot and I can't get it out."

"Let me get your food and I will take care of you."

I nodded obligingly, wondering why this lady isn't frightened out of her wits when she laid eyes on the gruesome Shishio-san. She did glance at our swords, lingering longer at mine, probably thinking I was some violent, messed up kid that ran away from a madhouse (quite true, in a sense!). There was a bemused look on her face rather a fearful one. The place was strangely desolate; the only customers were Shishio-san and me.

So she got us rice and fish and soup and dumplings and sake and green tea. Then she took me out to a water fountain in the back yard, used a tweezer to pull out the accursed thorn, washed my foot and bandaged it. This godsend lady, whoever she was, saved me from a life of perpetual pricking pain.

"That's awfully big." She let me see the thorn before throwing it away. "You're really brave, kiddo. Not even a whimper from you."

"Thank you so much." Beaming at her, I started walking back to the diner but she stopped me.

"Wait here."

She went into the back of the diner and came out with a pair of straw slippers. Put them on, she told this wretched kid who thirsted for kindness. They were big for me, but this was a huge leap from walking bare feet. All I could do was repeating my thank yous to her over and over.

For a fleeting moment, I felt that I was a normal. I was a normal kid who had a boo boo and an adult took care of me and made the pain go away. I did not think she was my mother. My mother was a distant notion, only brought up in the curses my relatives hurled at me whenever they were beating the life out of me. Because of this, I came to associate the concept of my mother with very unpleasant feelings.

"May I ask you something?"

The lady said go ahead.

"Why aren't you afraid of my master?"

"I've lived with leprous people before—my dad actually. There was a leprosy outbreak a few years back and the head village man forced him and several other leprous people to live in the mountain so to prevent the disease from spreading. Your master seems to be a horrible case, he better go see a doctor."

I corrected her, "My master doesn't have leprosy. He was burnt pretty bad."

"Well, he needs to see a doctor anyway."

As I wolfed down my food, Shishio-san said to me:

"If you want to get fed, you better tell me. How else am I supposed to know when you're hungry?"

I was touched, not to be mushy or anything, but I was really touched. Glancing at the young woman who brought us the tally, I toyed with a silly idea: the three of us could make a happy family. Forget the Meiji government and domination of the weak. Let Shishio-san marry this lady so all of us could live happily ever after.

Of course I never voiced this thought. Shishio-san'd laugh and whack me on the head with the hilt of his sword or something, saying that I was deranged. Honestly, between the two of us, I was not sure who was more deranged.

Shishio-san reached for his money pouch. Bad luck of all bad luck, the pouch had a hole in it. All that was left in the depleted pouch was a few sad coins. Obviously nowhere near enough to pay for this little feast we had.

Talk about an **awkward** moment.

"Why don't you pawn that sword of yours?" The lady suggested, unaware that what she said was very insulting to a swordsman.

I braced myself for a gory outburst from Shishio-san. Please don't let him kill this lady.

He just glared at her, astonished at the young woman's audacity. Finally, he reached into his pocket and took out a gold watch and placed it in her hand. Money aside, that gold watch and the sword were his sole possessions.

"You want me to go pawn this?"

"No, just keep it."

The lady raised a skeptical eyebrow, "For real?"

"Yeah, for real. Come on, Soujiro." He walked out of the diner and I followed suit.

"Hey, sir!"

Shishio-san halted. The lady hesitated a bit before addressing him:

"I know it's none of my business...but you really should go see a doctor. And you ought to take better care of that boy. I mean, he'd have a bad infection just walking around with a bleeding foot like that..."

Shishio-san leaned in close to her, looking fearfully menacing. The lady trembled. He asked:

"Why do you care?"

"It's...just what I do." replied the lady.

Shishio-san smirked and walked on.

A while after we left the diner, I asked Shishio-san if we could stop for a little bit. He looked annoyed.

"Don't tell me you're hungry again."

"No, sir. I kinda have to pee."

"Hurry up."

So I was happily emptying my bladder in front of a tree when a bloody, dying man crawled from out of nowhere and grabbed my ankle. I jumped a few inches in the air, and whipped out my little sword.

The dying man was dressed in farmer clothes and carried no weapon; he apparently could do no harm to me. But I kept my sword out just to be safe. He was groaning in pain and murmuring something about bandits. Fatally stabbed, he would not live for long. I called Shishio-san.

"Help...me get...back...ahhh...they'll raid the village...my wife...all alone...help..."

"Sorry, I'm a bad guy too." Shishio said coldly, brushed the bloody hand aside and walked on, "Tie up your pants and come along, Soujiro."

I obeyed. The last word I heard from the dying man was a woman's name, 'Yumi'.

* * *


	7. At the Lepers' Place

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin

**Author's Note:** I'd like to thank those who submitted reviews. Probably there will be 10 more chapters before this story concludes. I really want to finish this story--and your reviews help keep me motivated. Please keep them coming!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: At the Lepers' Place**

* * *

Shishio-san was talking but I couldn't hear him. Not that I was spacing out or anything; I honestly couldn't hear him amid the shrieking of the noisy cicadas. Midsummer was upon us, along with its terrible heat. Not a pleasant time for sword training. It was tough gripping a bokken with sweaty, slippery hands. I felt like I was bathing in my own sweat. So much water was pouring out of my systems, I wonder if I'd eventually shrivel up like a plum left too long in the sun... 

A terrible pain struck me in the tummy, knocking my innards up side down. I dropped to my feet and threw up yellow liquid. I quickly wiped the corner of my mouth and got up, barely able to stand on my shaky legs. My throat scorched badly.

"Daydreaming's gonna get you killed someday." Sword in hand, Shishio-san really looked as if he was going to kill me.

"I'm sorr..." I bent over, about to throw up again. Nothing came out—I hadn't had a bite that morning. Afraid that I'd get to the point of vomiting my intestines, I tried to calm the urge to throw up.

"Go drink some water. You may practice later." Shishio-san said and walked away from the forest clearing that served as the practice ground.

I managed to drag my battered body to a stream nearby and dipped my head into the water. I drank until my belly swelled up and about to burst. Utterly exhausted, I laid down on the ground, eyes shut, arms and feet spread out. All I wanted was just to lie there and dissolve into the unforgiving heat. Nobody would care if I did. But I promised myself I would get up soon, continue practice, bear with the pain, so that I would become strong. Though at this rate, I'd most likely die before I become anything close to strong. I also promised myself not to think about dying anymore because kids aren't supposed to think about that.

When I opened my eyes, I almost froze in fear. A group of hideous people (no, more like monsters) covered in dirty gauze were hovering above me, like a pack of stray dogs circling a piece of leftover meat. They looked much scarier than Shishio-san. Some of them had stubs instead of limbs and their pale faces resembled wax candles melting in the sweltering heat. An old man, the only one who wasn't bandaged, spoke to me:

"Why are you here by yourself, boy?"

"Umm...I am with my master."

"Where is your master then?"

"..." I waved a finger in some random direction, ready to make a mad dash back to Shishio-san as soon as these monsters were distracted.

"Is that him?"

To my surprise, Shishio-san was behind me, standing a few paces from us. I happily scurried next to him, glad to escape from the ugly monsters. But Shishio-san did not leave just yet.

The old man introduced himself and his followers as leprosy patients who were 'quarantined' in this area (from my childish guess, 'quarantined' meant being locked up in a dark, gloomy hole). Apparently, he mistook Shishio-san as a homeless samurai struck with leprosy and me as the poor samurai's ward. It was dangerous for a leper to wander around this remote part of the country, he said, with its people so easily disturbed and intolerant of anything out of the ordinary. By that account, the old man offered us a place at their village. And horror of all horrors, Shishio-san accepted.

I was going to have to live among monsters.

What the old man referred to as 'village' turned out to be a cluster of sad, tiny, flimsy shacks that housed a bunch of men, women, elderly, and children lepers. Some blind and some bed-ridden and most moved about zombie-like. They treated us kindly, in a silent, wordless way of their own. Shishio-san and I lived in the old man's shack. I did not like living in this place. The people scared me. Their illness scared me. Imagine having to watch your body slowly rotting, dying and can't do a single thing to stop it.

I thought it must be the worst thing in the world.

Unconcerned of my terror, Shishio-san showed no sign of wanting to leave any time soon. He told me he was 'intrigued' by this region, where 'the weak suffer in a living hell and the so-called strong teeter on the edge of chaos'.

Don't even ask me what the hell he meant by that. The man says the most confusing things to the already confused little kid. I was quite sure he wanted to take his sweet time with the good supply of bandages they provided him here while evading police hounds in the meantime.

One day after I was finished with the daily kata practice, the old man asked me to come help him carry water from the well. He was a kind man, and the only healthy-looking person in the village that I felt safe enough to be around. So I followed him like the good kid I was.

The walk to the well was probably half as far as from the 'normal people's village' up to the lepers' village. As I caught sight of the well, a clear memory of Shishio-san's sister draining her cat baby's blood into the well hovered in the back of my mind.

"Does this well share the same source with the wells down at the normal people's village?"

The old man looked a bit hurt when I used the word 'normal people' (for lack of a better word) but answered nonetheless:

"No, we get our water from the source up on the mountain."

That relieved me.

"Make haste, boy! It's high noon already. You'll get a sunstroke if you stay in the sun too long."

Wheeling the cart full of water buckets was greatly difficult for the old man even though I was helping him. His feet seemingly refused to obey him. It took him much effort to quicken his pace to match mine. Streams of sweat trailed from his temple down to his sharp black eyes to his white beard. I asked him if he should take a break but he said 'no' and kept on pushing the cart doggedly. At one point, the old man stopped abruptly, as if about to collapse on his feet.

A wooden peg rolled on to the ground.

After a dumbstruck moment, I realized that the disease had eaten away the old man's leg—actually, both—and that he had hid his wooden pegs inside his long trousers throughout all this time.

"Don't be scared, it's alright." The old man looked embarrassed, already seeing through the fear behind my nervous grin. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

I asked why he was in such a hurry.

"The doctor is coming today." Seeing that I haven't understood the significance of these words, the old man explained that the doctor was bringing the village council's approval that stated that he was no longer contagious and was safe enough to be around healthy, 'normal' people.

"Why is that so important to you?"

His tired face lit up, "I'm going back home for my daughter's wedding."

The doctor didn't come that day. Nor did he the day after. The old man grew anxious.

When someone finally did come, he brought bad news. The lepers referred to this young news bearer as 'the doctor's apprentice'. He was a wide-eyed wreck.

"My sensei was murdered a week ago." He told us.

I wondered if this was the same doctor that Shishio-san paid a visit to.

The apprentice continued; his voice hoarse and broken:

"Just three days after that, the bandits raided our village. They raped the women and took them and the children too. We couldn't bury the dead bodies because wherever we dug, we struck black liquid. I haven't slept since it happened...the blood and the corpses and the screaming and wailing...it drives you mad, you can't shut your eyes...or cover your ears to escape it..."

The old man opened his mouth, full of dread:

"Is my Yumi alright?"

My ears perked up at the name. Terror shrouded the air.

"Answer me!"

"She was...among the missing women."

The old man clutched his head in pain as if the sky had crashed down and the earth had crumbled to dust.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

At this point, you probably already figured out that the recurring motif is **family**. It bugs me that reading the manga gives you the impression that characters like Shishio and Yumi seemingly just popped out from nowhere, without a detailed pre-Kyoto past to speak of. They're not bad--just misguided characters--which makes me wonder: how did they live before they become misguided? Also, the focus on family plays a role in Soujiro's psychology, even though he may not be consciously aware of it. All he wants is have a family that takes care of him; it's sad that something so simple that people often take for granted is unattainable.


	8. The Worst Things in the World

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin

**Author's Note:** I was going to make this the concluding chapter for part 1 but it turned out too long, so I chopped it in two. A lot of introspection for Soujiro in this chapter

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**Chapter Eight: The Worst Things in the World**

* * *

"Shishio-san...what's...rape?" 

After so much apprehension, I finally worked up the nerve to ask him. Everyone else whom I confronted had scolded me, "bad child, do not ask such question!" Shishio-san was the only adult I trusted enough to ask.

Tugging at his sleeve, I tried a different question:

"Shishio-san, what happened to Yumi-san?"

Annoyed, Shishio-san brushed me aside and went out the door, without so much as a glance. Being so bad at reading facial emotions, I had no way of telling if he was upset or if he didn't care.

"What happened to Yumi-san?"

She wasn't dead—no, she was just missing. But her father acted as if she practically bore a death sentence. Does it mean that the bandits will kill her later? Or would they make her their slave and pound her to a pulp like the Seta family used to do to me? And what does 'rape' means? It was something extremely horrible, I'm sure—why else would the adults refuse to talk about it? I used to think being a slave was the worst thing in the world, second only to death. Then, seeing how miserable the lepers live, I changed my mind. The strange thing is that I could talk about slaves and death and lepers and not get scolded, whereas simply asking about 'rape' got me into trouble.

The child's intuition dawned on me.

Whatever happened to Yumi-san must be another worst thing in the world.

Lying in the crummy shack depressed me. Seeing the old man moping depressed me even more. Ever since the doctor's apprentice brought the bad news, he's been rooting in the corner of the shack, head down and eyes vacant, hands clutching the doctor's approval paper. No food, no drink, no sleep. The silent grief bothered me. You could never tell whether he was still alive or if he's turned to stone.

Shishio-san didn't seem to mind any of this, though. He's been out and about more frequently these days, usually coming back sweaty, smelled of dirt, and in a grave mood. (For once, the threat of being hounded has subsided, since no police ever set foot in these poor, isolated parts. As for the villagers, they'd just assume that they saw a leper--were they to catch a glimpse of him.) Afraid that I might set off an outburst, I could only bring him clean bandages and skitter out of his sight.

Putting on the slippers that Yumi-san gave me, I wandered outside. On a veranda, a father was giving his kids a haircut. At the bath house, mothers and big sisters were washing their toddlers and younger siblings. Somewhere else, a grandmother was calling her family to supper. Family scenes played before my eyes as if taunting me.

You bastard, even the lepers are happier than you. They have families. Where's yours? You killed them. You're an evil, disgusting child. You shall be alone to death. Bastard, bastard.

Being a bastard is another worst thing. Today, for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about the worst things in the world.

I had no idea how far I've walked. My feet seemed to have a will of their own; they carried me down to the 'normal people's village' without my realizing it. The village square had turned into a morgue, holding dead bodies waiting to be cremated because burials weren't possible. There were trenches and holes dug halfway, next to small, hardened pools of black tar. The air was thick with the nasty smell of rotting corpses and tar and slaughtered livestock and spoiled vegetables. I had to hold my breath because I didn't want to throw up and hurt my throat.

Someone turned off the sun. All of the sudden, I was confused and scared. Here I was, in the middle of a trash heap littered with dead bodies and didn't know the way back. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry out loud so an adult would come and tell me it's gonna be all right and take me home. Home, wherever that is.

"Soujiro!"

Facing Shishio-san, I found myself putting on the usual wide-eyed, nervous grin. My eyes were dry.

He threw a bucket and a shovel in front of me, telling me to follow him and dig where he pointed at. I dug and dug and dug for what seemed like hours, thinking that I must have dug a big tunnel through the other end of the earth. Looking up, I was very disappointed to see that it was just a shallow basin. My lungs were on fire and my arms were exhausted.

Impatient, Shishio-san grabbed the shovel and scooped up shovel after shovel without pausing to catch a breath. I plopped down on the dirt pile and watched him work.

"Today, I've been thinking about the worst things in the world."

"You have too much time on your hand, kid."

"I just realized that there's something worse than having the worst things happen to you."

"Hmm."

"You're only saying that so I'd stop bugging you, right?"

"No, I'm listening." He spoke, without looking up or stopping. "What is it?"

"It's being _alone_ when the worst thing happens to you."

"Being alone is a good thing. You can't be betrayed."

"That's true. But take the lepers for example, they're all right because they're not alone when the worst thing happens to them. Whereas Yumi-san has it worst because she was alone when she got raped..." I trailed off. That last sentence wasn't supposed to come out. Soujiro, you idiot.

Firey-eyed, Shishio-san threw down the shovel and growled at me, "Do.not.talk.about her anymore." It was a good thing I didn't drink water beforehand, otherwise, I'd have peed my pants. The last time I saw him this scary was when he killed the policemen at the Seta's house.

Grinning idiotically, I picked up the shovel and started digging, but Shishio-san stopped me and ordered me to fetch the bucket instead.

Oozing from the ground was a small geyser of thick, icky, black liquid that smelled as nasty as it looked. Was this what Shishio-san's been after for the last few days? This useless goo that everyone hate because it kept them from burying the dead?

"What's this icky stuff?"

For the first time, I saw Shishio-san grinned. I realized that this was _big_.

"This...is **gold**."

* * *

**Author's note:** Shishio got his hands on an oil well. What's he gonna do? Massive monopoly petroleum business, of course! I got the idea from the scene when Yumi took Kenshin and Sano to Shishio's battle ground and they talked about petroleum. And he got to make a fortune somehow to raise an army and buy that purgatory ship (Japan's very poor in natural resources, so no wonder this discovery'd make Shishio filthy rich). 


	9. The World Cries

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin

**Author's Note:** This chapter wraps up part 1 of the story. The old man decides what to do with his life and Sou has a likely-to-be-last emotional outburst. I won't start on part 2 until I have a clear storyline in my head. All I know is that it would be Sou's adolescent years. Yumi/Shishio love story will be one of the subplots. I probably will bring back Yumi's dad--not sure about Shishio's sister though. Maybe her going on a feminist crusade against the government? What do you think?

Read and review, thanks!

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**Chapter Nine: The World Cries**

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"Isn't gold supposed to be yellow?" 

Seeing that I still haven't grasped the value of the black goo, Shishio-san struck a match and dropped it to the earth. Suddenly, the ground where I stood burst out in flames. A terrible, loud noise like thunder boomed next to my ears. Dirt and pebbles flew all around. I crouched into a ball and squeezed my eyes shut, thinking that I was going to die for sure.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was confused to see that I was still in one piece. A large, jagged crater had formed where I stood. Blinking, I realized that I was hanging parallel to the ground. Shishio-san had snatched me from the explosion and held me under his arm.

Looking none too pleased, Shishio-san dropped me as one would a sack of rice. The hard ground hurt my bottom, but that was the last thing on my mind.

"I don't understand any of this."

Frustrated that his earth-shattering demonstration had done nothing to my dense mind, Shishio-san jabbed his finger at the black goo, "This stuff is called petroleum."

"Pe-tro-lee-umh." I slowly repeated the word to make sure I got it right. "So it's good for blowing things up?"

"No. It's a type of fuel, just like coal. The explosion was meant for you to see its power."

"Why did you say it's gold then?"

I thought I heard Shishio-san cursed under his breath at my ignorance.

"This stuff worth a lot of money, so in away, it is equivalent—no, maybe even more valuable than gold."

"That makes sense. Why didn't you say that from the beginning?"

"Remind me not to use figures of speech on you from now on."

I was about to ask what 'figures of speech' are, but held my tongue back in time. I rather not go through all that again.

Dawn broke by the time we returned to the lepers' place. The shack was eerily still. The old man remained rooted in the corner where I left him. In the mix of dim light and dark shadows, his lopsided head seemed to be severed, hanging on his shoulder by a thread.

"Oji-san." I shook him. His breathing was so quiet--for all I know, he may have stopped breathing already.

My eyes caught sight of the small blade in his hands. Amid the darkness, the sharp steel blade shone like a shard of the white sun rising outside.

_Suicide._

"Oji-san, it's morning. Open your eyes!"

_Suicide._

"Wake up, oji-san! Oji-san!"

He stirred. Took him a while longer to open his eyes. They seemed almost glued together from dried tears and crusted rheum.

"What's the big fuss, boy? I only dozed off a little--I haven't slept a wink in two days, you know? Why, it **is** morning already!"

The old man stretched his arms and groped for his wooden peg feet. I handed them to him, casually and unafraid. Thanking me, he tied them to his thighs, pulled down his trouser legs and propped himself up. I watched all this and thought it was just as natural as seeing someone tying his sandals.

"Your knife. What was it for?" Curiosity urged me to finally ask that question.

In response, he tapped on the makeshift walking cane that he was leaning on. "It'll last a thousand li, I reckon."

"You're going away?"

"I'm going to find my Yumi-chan."

"You don't know where she is though. You don't even know if she's alive or not."

"My child is missing. How could I stay here and do nothing when my child is missing?"

With that said, the old man bade goodbye to his fellow villagers and started the hopeless journey on his wooden pegs and walking cane. I watched him trudged down the beaten path that led to the 'normal people's village', going about as fast as a crawling infant.

His pegs will break, and so will his cane, but not his will.

Oh world, stop your bickering nonsense and behold that legless old man searching for his as-good-as-dead daughter!

I know that I was supposed to be inspired by this old man and have faith in the ever-resilient human spirit and all that glorious stuff, but I was too busy thinking about myself. I couldn't, could **not**, shake off the anger that was knotting my stomach. A living monster with teeth, that immense anger yanked my guts and squeezed my lungs. I could hardly breathe. My mouth and cheeks twitched and my fists trembled uncontrollably. I tried to calm down, but it was no use. I had gone beyond fear. I was in a full blown panic mode. Anger would eat me alive; I got to let it out. I slapped myself and pulled out my hair and shook my fists at the sky and kicked the dirt and snapped the tree branches and bellowed at the indifferent trees.

Why won't anyone come for me? Why won't my mother and father look for me? I'm missing too! Come look for me! I'm hurt, I'm in pain--my head won't stop spinning, my nose keep smelling vomit and blood and tar, my wrists and my ankles are shredded from all that sword practice. I'm hurt but I can't cry. I hate it. My face can't stop twitching and I'm scared it'd be screwed up like that for my whole life. Come, mother and father, please come! Call my name, ask for the little boy that can't stop smiling. Please, look for me! I'm still alive. Don't believe what they say, I'm not a bad child.

I'm not a bad child!

I'm not a bad child!

I'm not a bad child! How many times do I have to scream that out loud to convince you!

I'm not a bad child.

I'm not a bad child...

I'm not a bad child...

I'm not...

I'm...

Nobody came. I should've known better not to waste my breath. Life isn't like fairytales, in which all you have to do is cry out and angels would pop up and dry your tears and solve your problems. I was pretty sure that plenty of people were crying at the same time I was and no angel came to them either. Perhaps our cries drowned out one another, so the godly beings had no way of telling who was who.

Whoever made up fairy tales was a cruel liar. Telling children to cry their throats out at some figure of fantasy dust that would never come. Liar liar liar liar.

I touched my eyes. They were dried. I wasn't freaking out anymore; my face wasn't twitching anymore. Crying out was such a useless act. I swore I won't waste my breath like I did from now on. Instead, I would make like water, always calm no matter how much life shook me up.

Down at the normal people's village, they were crying as they made a funeral pyre for the dead. From where I stood, I could see the column of black smoke rising all the way to heaven--if there was one. I wondered who would make a funeral pyre for these people when Shishio-san was through with the village, after he had sucked out the last drop of petroleum from its land. They probably just get left out in the open to rot. Layer upon layer of flesh and blood, broken down and mixed into the dirt, broken down and mixed some more, until they become part of the black goo to fuel others' riches and ambitions.

The weak is food for the strong, even after they die.

The world is crying at the same time, all the time.

* * *

**End of part 1.**


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